


What Keeps Me Here

by PlayingChello



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Blood and Gore, Character Death, Dubious Consent, F/M, Major Character Injury, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rape/Non-con Elements, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-30 08:30:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6416377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlayingChello/pseuds/PlayingChello
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vergil and Lady have always been enemies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Keeps Me Here

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KalinaAnn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KalinaAnn/gifts).



> Please read the tags if you have triggers.
> 
> Song title from Evanescence's Haunted because I'm trash and it fits.
> 
> Dedicated to Aidan for inspiring this trash ship.

Her gun recoils violently as she fires another shot toward the half demon before her, but yet again, he simply phases out of the way and is left unharmed.

Vergil and Lady have been playing this back and forth dance of death for what seems like hours now. Lady keeps trying to shoot him, with all of her weapons, and Vergil keeps dancing out of the way of her shots. While Vergil returns with quick slashes of his sword that Lady barely manages to roll out of the way of.

But she’s getting tired. And slower. And Vergil seems to be moving just the same as he was when they started. It’s hard, being a hunter of demons when she’s only human. Limited by her human endurance.

One slip up and Vergil has her pinned to the wall by glowing blue projectile swords. Before she can blink, cold, sharp metal is placed against her neck and Vergil’s face is inches from hers. Her guns have clattered to the ground and she finds herself motionless, defenseless, completely lost of control.

“A human is no match for a demon, _Mary_.”

Her brow furrows and she spits at him, “ _Fuck_ you.”

It makes him angry. She knew it would. He has a short fuse, despite his calm demeanor. Suddenly the edge of the blade is pressed harder against her skin and his hand grips painfully in her hair, pulling her head back and baring her neck, “What was that?”

She glares hard at him, trying to struggle out of his grip but it’s too hard and pain pricks at her scalp. “Fuck. You,” she repeats slowly. A challenge.

Vergil smirks, “That’s what I thought.”

Suddenly, Yamato’s blade moves. It’s so sharp that a light incision opens in her skin from her neck to her breast, where the blade is finally lifted only so Vergil can bring it up under her shirt. She squirms, trying to free herself from Vergil’s iron grip. But it’s useless. Yamato cuts through thread and fabric as if it were little more than butter.

She squeezes her eyes shut as her chest is bared to the devil before her. She doesn’t want to see his smirk, doesn’t want to watch the way he inhales her when he leans in close, doesn’t want to feel his breath on her skin as he bites hard into her collarbone.

This is wrong. It’s so wrong. This is her enemy. One of the demonkind she swore to eliminate. So why does she struggle to keep from sighing? Why do her legs part just slightly? Why does her body feel warm and her struggling become weak and halfhearted?

Why does she… want this?

Vergil’s hand is still in her hair, still pulling her head back painfully hard. Her throat is stretched out to him and her pulse is throbbing wildly. She feels teeth scrape against her sensitive skin there before a knee collides with her painfully between her legs. Painfully, and yet it sends sparks through her. She struggles, and the friction it creates only serves to make that confusing feeling stronger.

“Someone is enjoying herself…” Vergil whispers before she starts to feel the tip of Yamato trailing over her midriff.

And then pressure.

And excruciating pain.

She screams. She can’t stop herself, much as she doesn’t want to show weakness. She screams and Vergil smirks. There’s warm blood running over her stomach underneath the wound and she can’t move. If she tries, her entire body screams. The logical part of her brain tells her that there is a sword through her. Probably punctured her intestines. Maybe even her liver. Kidney’s for sure. But the rest of her brain is screaming. It _hurts_.

But Vergil’s got him knee between her legs and he’s pushing it harder into her and his now free hand is sliding under her skirt and under her shorts. A quick pull and both garments are near shreds falling away from her hips, leaving her in nothing but panties. Panties which Vergil’s hand simply pushes aside before fingers begin to explore her.

“Soaking, you really are enjoying this.”

It’s embarrassing, and she doesn’t want to admit it, but she _is_ enjoying it. Despite the pain, the cold feeling of steel running her through, despite the fact that she _doesn’t_ want this, she’s enjoying it. She can feel the shocks of pleasure running through her from the way Vergil touches her and she can hear herself moaning from it.

Beyond the distinct lack of fingers on her, she doesn’t notice when he pulls back to free himself. Not until she feels cold, alabaster skin against hers, chest to chest. His fingers grip at her thighs hard, pushing them further apart.

And then he drops her onto him.

Yamato pulls at her wounds, opening her to renewed pain and widening the hole through her. Her screams echo and she hardly feels the pain of Vergil ripping through her. But she feels the pleasure of it. Something about the combination of the pain and the way Vergil is forcing himself on her has her near writhing in pleasure.

Vergil thrusts without abandon, harsh and powerful and with no care for her. One hand runs over her stomach, sliding in warm blood and dancing at the wound. His other hand runs up her body, over her breast, pinching a twisting a nipple briefly. Until it finds its way around her throat, grabbing high up and holding her jaw in place. He practically lifts her by her neck, pushing her up each time he pulls back and pulling her down to meet each thrust. It’s jarring and painful and every part of her hurts.

But it also feels electric.

As Vergil forces himself on her, opens her up further, she can feel her strength fading. The edges of her vision are going blurry and dark. Her vision focuses on Vergil and his cold glare. His eyes icy boring into her. But before long, even that becomes difficult. Exhausting. She just wants to sleep.

Even as she’s being built up, pleasure mounting, all she wants is sleep. She’s cold, suddenly. Her eyes feel heavy and she struggles to keep them open until she can’t anymore. She can’t even feel Vergil anymore. Can’t feel the sword through her. Only Vergil’s hand on her throat as it tightens even more and his lips on hers as he steals the last of her breath.

\--

Vergil thrusts one final time as Lady’s body goes completely limp, his orgasm peaking and filling him with a warmth. He’s covered in the woman’s blood, brilliantly red and smeared between them. Once he’s finished, he pulls away from her body as she hangs limp, held in place by his beloved Yamato. He fixes himself, pulls his vest closed and zips his pants once more, before pulling his sword from the woman. She falls ungracefully in a heap at his feet and he finds the scraps of her skirt to wipe his blade clean before sheathing it once more.

One less human to get in his way.

He wouldn’t admit, even to himself, that he enjoyed the experience.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/playingchello).


End file.
